


Glitches (A.K.A Superheroes Need Hope)

by K9_DFTBA



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Kinda, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Soulmates, Polyamory, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, and not, but they are all broken because superheroes need hope, it follows the cannon, literature references, more like Howling Command(Bro)s amiright, read notes for warnings, the main points at least, there are a lot of rules about how the marks work, way to many commas and dashes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-04-11 16:38:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4443734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K9_DFTBA/pseuds/K9_DFTBA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hope, Steve’s mother had said, was the reason for the soulmarks. They appeared to give hope to their bearers. This only made sense to Steve after he met Bucky; After all, who needed to hope when you knew that someone like him was always watching your six?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Most of the Time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: A perv comes onto Steve right at the beginning. Steve has a rough time until Bucky shows up. If you still want to read you should be safe when Bucky shows up. They discuss it momentarily but not in detail like the preceding narration. There are also a fair few curses and the discussion of "Paid fairies" (not negatively).  
> The language Steve and his mother speak is Gaelic, and all translations can be found on the line below the word.  
> I hope you enjoy! Talk to you more in the end notes!

Hope, Steve’s mother had said, was the reason for the soulmarks. They appeared to give hope to their bearers. This only made sense to Steve after he met Bucky; After all, who needed to hope when you knew that someone like him was always watching your six?

* * *

 

Steven Grant Rogers was born with the word “Punk” in thin, curling handwriting just under his right collarbone. It humored his mother endlessly, as he was, undoubtedly, a punk.

“Someday,” she teased, “some nice girl is gonna come along and put you in your place. She’ll be great for you, Stevie.”

Thing was though, she assumed the soulmark was of a woman because she assumed it was romantic. Which it was… not? Most of the time? It seemed a bit glitch-y, if Steve was honest.

Steve, of course, had to tell her it was platonic when he met Bucky. Whether or not he was lying, well, that was up for debate.

They didn’t have to face this problem the second they met though, as they were stupid fucking idiots.

* * *

 

Scrawny, 14 year old, righteous to a fault, Steve was cornered. Again.

He wouldn’t let this stop him from fighting though, even as the older boy crowded up into his personal space, pressing him against a wall. He raised his fists in front of his face, hoping he could get a good jab in even in the confined space. The other saw the move coming, though, grabbing his wrists and pinning them against the wall before he could even make a move.

“Oh, don’t be like that!” the boy cooed, moving his face dangerously closer to Steve’s, “You ruined my fun with that pretty dame, don’t you think you should make it up to me?”  

The boy began kissing up his neck pressing closer against him. Steve looked up, bile rising in his throat. His fight or flight reflex began to kick in, making him dizzy. His chest began to constrict, and his throat began to close up. All thoughts of fighting disappeared from his thoughts as he began to devote all his mind to stay conscious.

He thought his blurred vision was deceiving him when he saw a new form sauntering towards them.

“Hey, creep, what do you think the police would do if I told them you were feeling up a young _boy._ What would your soulmate think?”

The addressed froze in place, his hands stopped on the young blond’s upper thighs, and his head hovering above Steve’s shoulder.  

“Cause I imagine they wouldn’t be pleased,” the mysterious kid continued as he walked closer to them.

The attacker suddenly unfroze, turning around angrily and throwing a punch. The newcomer surged forward, grabbing his fist and using his momentum to push his arm back, breaking his wrist and dislocating his shoulder. The man collapsed to the ground, unconscious after only one blow. In any other situation, he may have laughed at how pathetic the man was.

Barnes did not immediately question Steve’s motives during this first rescue, as he would always do in the occasions to come, nor did Steve claim as he ran up that he would have been fine on his own. Instead, he silently rushed to support Steve, and Steve, still fighting for consciousness, was silent.

He lowered to them to the ground, briefly entertaining the idea that they should get to a safer area of town as fast as possible, but quickly deciding that the fire-cracker and himself could take anyone stupid enough to bother them.

It took the now sitting Steve a few seconds to regain his full vision. When there were no traces of the dancing silver-grey tunnel that had threatened to overtake his vision mere seconds before, he looked at the man sitting next to him with the life-less eyes of a person who was not fully recovered from near unconsciousness.

“James Barnes,” Steve’s rescuer said, in way of a greeting.

When Steve didn’t reply, he simply continued talking.

“When I first walked by, I just thought you were a paid fairy. Get a lot of that in this area, you know. Poor kids. But then I didn’t… uh this is going to sound weird… but no-one was making the right noises, so I got suspicious. I looked and saw how small you were and at that point I didn’t even care if you were in the business, I was getting you out of there. Glad I did. Anyway, watcha doin’ picking a fight with someone like him, anyway?”

Steve looked at him dazedly, slurring, “What’re you doin' in this area? Huh? You say there’s all this bad shit goin’ on here, so why you here? You a fella for hire?”

 Barnes noticed he had answered none of his questions, and debated calling him out on it, but instead he simply responded to Steve.

“Me? For hire? No one in their right mind would pay two cents for me,” Barnes said jokingly.

Steve had recovered more now- the color had returned to his cheeks though he now looked confused. He quipped back at Barnes with gusto he shouldn’t have had given the situation.

“I don’t know. I think you could fetch a good dollar. Just one buck though.”

“Really? Ya think so?” Barnes said, feigning bashfulness.

“Yeah, for sure. A regular buck-y you are.”

Steve seemed to regain his senses after this, saying “And no, I’m not. ‘M just Steve Rogers. As for my reasoning, I just don’t like bullies. He was feeling up a dame. I called him out and apparently he decided since I prevented him from abusing that girl he was obligated to do it to me instead. Said something about me ruining his fun.”

“That’s really stupid, punk,” Barnes says, sighing.

Steve jolted, but brushed it off and continued.

“No, it was the right thing to do. I’m only telling you this because I’m loopy anyway, so appreciate it instead of criticizing my actions,” He paused, before adding as an afterthought, “Jerk.”

It was Barnes’ turn to jolt, but he too brushed it off.

This was their first of many mistakes.

Granted, many people called Steve a punk, and many people called Barnes- who had the word “Jerk” under his left collarbone- a jerk, but most people knew when they met their soulmate because of their connection.

Steve was still in the clouds though, and subconsciously wrote it off as one of the glitches that occasionally sparked through the connection.

Barnes did the same, and the occurrence completely faded from his mind as he began to slowly guide Steve to a standing position.

When they arrived at Steve and his mother’s small apartment, the distracted Steve introduced Barnes as “Bucky Barnes” to his mother, before falling onto their ratty couch and slipping quickly into the deep sleep of an emotionally and physically drained person.

The worried Bucky had hovered, and asked Ms. Rogers if she thought he would be ok. She said she imagined he would be fine, saying that dizzy spells were common for her boy, and not inquiring what had happened, knowing it was not Bucky’s story to tell.

Much like his new nickname, Bucky never left after that.

* * *

 

It wasn’t until the next time Bucky had to save Steve that they realized they were soulmates.

It had been a few months since their first meeting, and in that time Bucky had realized that Steve could usually, despite his size, handle himself. So even now, as Bucky watched Steve dodging blows from _3_ , yes, _3_ older, muscled teens, he debated if he should step in. He was only convinced to do so when one of the fighters walked behind the blond, and kicked the crook of his knee, sending him to the ground.

Bucky sprang into action, sprinting for the fight and diving in head first. He took the first down quickly, simply ramming into him with his shoulder forward, and pushing him into the ground with great force as he began to fall. No longer having the element of surprise though, he focused his attention on Steve for a moment, helping him up, but releasing him as Steve immediately fell into position to cover his six.

Each of them had a competitor now, and they fought furiously, if for a short time.

No man could last long against them when they were together.

As Bucky finished his own fight, he just stood back with his arms crossed, watching Steve with a look that was part fond, and part grimace.

Steve giggled, to Bucky’s humor/horror, as he took his opponent down seconds after Bucky had taken down his. Steve jabbed the guy square in the nose and he crumpled. Steve walked over to Bucky casually, and Bucky slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Who’s honor you defendin’ this time?”

“They were tormenting little kids Buck. _Little kids!”_

“Someday you’re gonna lose one of those fights, kid. One of those guys is gonna take it upon himself to put you in your place, punk.”

Steve didn’t hesitate to reply.

“I’ve got you for that, Jerk.”

Steve suddenly stopped, as the truth of what he had said hit him. His ma had always said his soulmate would put him is his place; take care of him.

“Buck?” He asked quietly.

Bucky, who had stopped walking when Steve had, was now looking down at him quizzically.

“What’s your soulmark?’

Bucky, surprisingly, didn’t hesitate to pull down his shirt collar.

“Kinda not something a fella should ask, but I trust ya. It’s platonic…” he trailed off, “only one I got.”

Steve, instead of replying, mimicked Bucky’s movement, displaying his soulmark.

Bucky brushed his thumb over Steve’s mark.

“Your ma thinks it’s romantic,” Bucky stated, plainly.

“Yeah…”

“Is it the only one you have?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a shame.”

Steve smiled, looking from Bucky’s soulmark to his face.

“Nah,” he began, “Don’t need ‘em when I got you, Buck.”

* * *

 

Steve’s mother knew something had changed the second they got back.

It was Bucky’s fault, really.

He apparently was very tactile, but held it back.

Seeing the soulmark on Steve, though- seeing that Steve was _his_ \- unleashed all of it.

Honestly, it was the only thing them being soulmates had changed.

 

He had expected his mother to be disappointed, but, of course, she was not. Annoyed, a bit. Pitying, maybe. Proud and fond, definitely.

“Steven! Why didn’t you tell me?” she exclaimed.

“Ma…” he said sheepishly, “We just figured it out and we’re telling you now. And as for not telling you it was platonic… Well, I never said it _wasn’t_.”

“ _Ná Bí Ag Iarraidh Cluain An Chacamais A Chur Orm_ ,” she said pointedly.

(Don’t bullshit me.)

“ _Mamaí_ …” he complained, “What would you have had me do? Ruined your hope for me?”

(Mother…)

“ _Dun do Bheal_!” She said angrily, before realizing herself and rapidly calming down.

(Shut your mouth!)

“I am very glad you found each other, Steven. If your soulmarks say you don’t need anyone else, then you don’t need anyone else. I am so happy for you.”

Bucky smiled at her and dropped a fond peck into Steve’s hair.

Steve blushed and looked up at him, looking pleased.

 _Platonic,_ _mo thóin,_ she thought, raising her eyebrow where they could not see.

              (my ass)

Nothing got past Mama Rogers. Not even glitches.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DIDJA CATCH THE REFERENCE? The idea for Bucky getting his nickname comes from the book Ender's Shadow (Bean is BAE).  
> This story is going to be a rollercoaster.  
> That's all I'm saying for now.  
> xoxo  
> ~K ( http://im-actually-writing.tumblr.com/ )


	2. The End of the Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky had to make sure his Steve would be taken care of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry so short but it just flows better this way.

The next “glitch” went unnoticed by both Steve and Bucky.

It was subtle, a slight lightening of Bucky’s soulmark. One would only have been able to see the shift from true black to dark maroon if they were to isolate the color.

To use words that would later be spoken by one who was just a boy at the time- since the world must always be where injustice is occurring, the world was now Nazi Germany. It was 1939, and the world was headed toward war.

And Steve, well, Steve was headed to war too, and Bucky’s soulmark was reflecting it.

They had made it this many years though, through countless cases of illness and innumerable fights. Bucky had kept him alive through that, and now he was determined to keep him alive through the war. And make sure he had a good life after the war- and after Bucky was gone.

Because who was he kidding, he was going to war- he could fight- but he wasn’t coming back- he couldn’t fight that well.   

So he made Steve go to art school. A good one, too. And he tried to teach him how to date, as much as it pained him. He even trained him in hand-to-hand- proper hand-to-hand- under the pretense of helping him enlist. Bucky knew Steve would be a 4F though. The army didn’t give the little guys a chance. Maybe someone could change that- show them that little guys can fight too-, but it wouldn’t be Steve. Bucky could do these last things for Steve.

He knew when the US joined the war, he would be glad he had prepared. In relation to this, Bucky knew that the U.S. _would_ join the war. Steve’s optimistic view of the country's sense of justice had rubbed off on Bucky just enough for him to be unable to accept anything else. Because there was injustice. Of course, they would fix it. Rushing in to save the day like heroes- like Steve and Bucky would do with bullies in the good old days.  

He thanked every god, though, that it took longer than he thought it would. Had it been just a year before, he wouldn’t have been there for Steve when his Ma died. And sure, Steve would have survived it on his own, but he didn’t have to. Instead of living off pennies in the street, he got to live off a nickel with Bucky by his side.

This made it harder, though, when in 1941, after a year of them living together, the U.S. joined the war and Bucky had to enlist. He only had one thing left he could do for Steve, now, though. The day before he enlisted, he filed his will. It required him to register his soulmark- allowing pictures to be taken and officially stating its type- and if Steve were to claim it he may have to register his as well, but it was worth it. Bucky had provided Steve the tools for starting a family, forced him to develop his skills so that he could make a living, and taught him to defend himself. The only thing left to do was to make sure Steve was never left without a roof over his head. No-one else would need the Barnes residence after Bucky was gone, anyway.

So, the night before he shipped out, before the Stark Expo, Bucky asked Steve to promise to stay State-Side. To start a family, use his talents, and stay out of trouble. Steve, of course, wouldn’t hear of it.

“I’m going to find a way to follow you, Buck. ‘Till the end of the Line.”

“I think this might just be the end of the line, Stevie.”

The rage in Steve’s eyes was unprecedented.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REEEEEEFERENCE?  
> The bit about the world becoming where oppression rages is a reference to Ellie Wiesel's Nobel Peace Prize speech. He is an author and Holocaust survivor; look him up.  
> THANKS.  
> ~K


	3. Compasses and Hand Grenades

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another 1k words just for you <3.  
> Hope it doesn't suck.  
> Warnings-  
> Not much, but Steve is like 100% sure the serum is going to kill him so if hopelessness or discussion of death is triggering for you just be on guard.  
> Also minor and responsible alcohol consumption.

Steve was following Bucky. But by the time he had gotten out of basic he was, of course, also following Peggy.

The soulmark had appeared silently when Steve met Erskine. It escaped Steve’s notice, appearing faded in a way that was never heard of before. The mark was a small, grey compass with a black outline on the last rib of the right side of his rib cage. Though he did not know what it meant, Steve knew it was Peggy’s the moment he met her. He didn’t know why it was faded, or how, but when he looked into her eyes he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Other times, though, it was all he thought about.

On the night before he received the serum, he finally confided in Erskine.

“I have a theory, Steven, but I do not think you will like it.”

Steve gave him a nod that told him to continue.

“Many believe that if one is to experience a momentous change, something that alters them, how they connect, and even the rest of the world, forever soulmates may change.”

Steve nodded.

“My Ma said that people who gained new connections and lost current ones were heroes. She said they must be, to be have experienced something so world-changing and lived.”

“Your mother told you stories about soul-marks?”

“Like fairy-tales,” he confirmed, “She said that soulmarks were for hope. One of her favorite stories to tell was about a girl who had no home and no family. She was hopeless. She suffered so much that she willed a soulmark into existence. The way she told it, she had always had the connection- it wasn’t one of the rare new ones like we were talking about- but the connection wasn’t fully stable yet. Because she needed hope so badly, though, the mark appeared in the form of an explosion.”

“Your mother must have been open-minded to tell her child bedtime stories about such controversial issues. I admire that. I believe in this case we are looking at the first story you mention, but this is a bit of a curious case. If we can agree to assume that this world-altering change is you receiving the serum, then it begins to stray farther from this idea. I think that this soulmark and the connection you have gained is one of transition. The person you are right-now is unformed, in a way. This unformed version of you is connected with Ms. Carter. I believe this is why the mark is faded and fluid.”

“So, you think when I get the serum it will…”

“It seems likely, Steven. I almost hope so. I cannot begin to imagine what-else it could be,” he grimaced, “I do not want to do so, either. I’m sorry to be blunt. Do remember though that even when you change completely, part of the old you still sticks around. Part of you will always be perfect with Ms. Carter. Do not let the state of your skin determine your happiness.”

“Look who’s being open-minded now,” Steve said, giggling humorlessly.

Erskine took a final sip of his drink, before exiting the room with a swift touch to Steve’s back.

* * *

 

Steve was blunt as Erskine had been when telling her what he had said. Peggy was tough, and would not appreciate being coddled. So he simply repeated Erskine’s words, rubbing the area of her hip bone where the grayscale hand-grenade mark laid. He also pointedly included his last bit of advice.

“Okay,” she said, when he finished.

“Okay?”

“Okay. I will always care for you, Steven, no matter what my mark says. If our marks explode tomorrow, it’s just another obstacle in this. We don’t have much to ruin yet, but we have a lot to improve. We’ll make it through this together, and we always will, from now one.”

She leaned down and kissed his cheek. They were not affectionate, usually, as their relationship was complicated at best, so it gave Steve a great deal of hope.

“Sure, Peg. I hope so,” he smiled sadly at the ground, where she couldn’t see.

He truly believed this was the end of the line. It was easy to think he could make it, with Bucky by his side, but not now. In Steve’s mind, there were only two possible outcomes for the next day:

  1.       He would die. The experiment would malfunction, and he would be killed. There were many risks; it wasn’t a great leap to make. Both Peggy and Bucky’s soulmarks would turn into the explosions of the widowed silently, as he faded out of the world.
  2.       He would lose all of his soulmarks, and the people he loved most. He agreed with the sentiment that one could be happy despite the marks on their skin, but he couldn’t reconcile himself with the thought that the links with the people he loved with is all could be broken in a mendable way. If his links were broken, he couldn’t go back. He would sacrifice himself for their happiness.



So, for that night, he clutched Peggy Carter, his soulmate, close to his body and kept their link in the forefront of his mind. He would cherish it while he could, he decided.

* * *

The morning of the procedure was a whirlwind. He got to speak with Peggy for only a short time.

Not that he minded, really. He had said his goodbyes, and that was all he could do.

The only thing he regretted was not being able to be with Bucky one last time as his soulmate. Steve fiddled with the collar of his shirt where it touched his soulmark, and palmed at the letter tucked in the waist band of his pants and under his shirt.

The envelope contained three pages. One was a profile of Bucky, with his soulmark the main focus. The image cut off an inch or two below Bucky’s collar bone, and faded with the natural edge of the paper.  The second was another sketch in the same style, except this one was of Steve. Both were on heavy sketchbook paper, signed, and dated the day before the procedure. On the back of the image of Steve it said, _“Hey, Buck. I figured you might need some help remembering what they looked like, since, if you are reading this, your mark has exploded. Remember for me, okay?”_  The final page was a short letter, mostly imploring Bucky to keep safe after he was gone. Steve signed it _Your Punk, Steve_ and doodled a dollar bill in the upper left corner.  

Steve was peaceful, if hopeless, as he stepped into the chamber.

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No references this chapter.... Weird.  
> Obvious foreshadowing tho. Poor Bucky gonna forget. Bucky gonna need some hugs.  
> And that letter has purpose other than just to be sad, I promise.  
> Bye 4 now.  
> X,  
> K


	4. Rules of a Picky World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The procedure brings pain, hope, and adrenaline. Bucky is thankful, and gets a big secret off his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I haven't posted in forever.  
> No, I can't bring myself to apologize for it.  
> Yes, I'll try to do better moving forward.  
> I love this story, and I'm doing my best not to let it go.  
> xoxoxo  
> ~K

Worlds away, Sargeant James Barnes was teaching an off-the-cuff hand-to-hand class to a bunch of snipers. They generally had no required knowledge of hand-to-hand, but they thought it useful to learn and Bucky found it relaxing to teach. The day was drawing to a close, and one of Bucky’s students had “challenged” him to a sparring match. So, the practice had devolved into social hour as the soldiers began talking amongst themselves, mostly betting on who would win. They quieted, though only slightly, as Bucky and the other man got into position.

Bucky was feeling nostalgic, so he took a page from Steve’s book. His opponent swung hard, and Bucky calmly sidestepped. The man fell forward and nearly hit the ground.

He righted himself as Bucky said, “I may have taught you how to fight, but I didn’t teach you every-way to fight.”

The other man dived for Bucky’s feet, and Bucky somersaulted over him, a spectacle with his tall form.

“Evasion isn’t something I can teach you, though. And it’s kinda boring,” he said, sidestepping another swing.

“Ya know, I could do this all-“ Bucky cut off abruptly, and crumpled to the ground.

He convulsed and clawed at the collar of his shirt as men rush to his aid. He was making inhuman noises as he finally ripped part of his shirt away, leaving his men shocked at what they saw. Nearly his entire right side was covered in moving tendrils of black and grey. His once black soulmark was now blood-red and frail looking. And, on top of it all, Bucky was screaming.

The men did not understand what was happening. For one, they had never seen their sergeant’s soulmark before, nor had he ever talked about it. Second, the soulmark was moving, which simply did not occur. The most disturbing thing, though, was that it was apparently hurting the sergeant.

Ever soldiers, they jumped into action. They carried their sergeant to the infirmary, making sure he got a private room. Bucky was respected because he had climbed into leadership so quickly, and, due to this and the threat of his men’s wrath, no questions were asked. Bucky was left to slip into unconsciousness, and away from the pain he felt burning his skin, peacefully.

* * *

 

Steve was delirious through the first waves of pain, looking to his still intact soulmark for hope. He even got it for a moment, before they word on his collarbone exploded sending flat grey across his right side. He screamed, then. Left without hope he simply let the pain course through his body.      

Then he saw them. The word on his collar bone was blue, but still there. Not just that, though, he now had three black, fluid  stripes. He distantly heard himself continue to scream as he attempted to study them.

He only stopped when he heard a voice yell, “Shut it down!”

Steve glanced at his marks.

“No!” He yelled through gritted teeth, “No, I can do this!”

He hadn’t lost Bucky. Sure, the mark had changed, but it was still there. He’d even _gained a new mark._ He hadn't lost Peggy, either.  He felt no change in her mark.

He got to keep the loves of his life, and maybe even a new one.

So, yeah, maybe Steve had changed, but he was still Peggy and Bucky’s Steve. And he had a future too. Someone new to meet and to love. He was spontaneously hopeful that, maybe, the serum would work. He could follow his soulmates to war, and maybe even protect them when he got there.

He could do this.

Soon enough, the capsule slid open and he stumbled out. He gripped the forearm of his right arm where the unformed stripes he had willed into existence lied, as men in lab coats rushed to his side, and Peggy approached him from the front.

He straightened out and dropped his arms as she moved to him.

“How do you feel?” she asked, gently touching the stripes and then settling her hand in the gray explosion, below his now blue word.

“Taller,” he said simply.

Peggy’s quiet laugh was the last thing he heard before a gunshot rang out in the room.

* * *

 

 Sargent Barnes sat straight up in bed.

He only saw the blood red soulmark for a second, before it snapped back into its original black form. He also got to see the appearance of a new soulmark on the middle finger of his right hand. It was a triangular shield, in the style of the American flag. Bucky had no clue what it meant; the connection was oddly inactive. But Steve was fine where ever he was, and Bucky suddenly felt like he could run a marathon.

He grabbed his jacket, which had been left on the end of his cot, shoved it on, and jogged out the door. As he left the infirmary, he took moment to appreciate his good luck. Thank god he had been with his men. Thank god he could trust them. Normal people’s soulmarks did not change. Normal people did not develop new soulmarks this late in life.

 _God, this world is picky_ , he thought, _you can only have one soulmark, and it has to be romantic, and it has to be with someone of the opposite sex. You can only have one soulmark but we guess it is kinda okay if you have a platonic soulmark even though we deny their existence sometimes as long as you have a romantic one too or else you are a freak. And if you develop a soulmark later in life you are a perv. Because that whole “protective soulmark” thing is a conspiracy and people **certainly** don’t change. Nope. _

Bucky paused in his mental diatribe, wondering if he was so worked up because of his random adrenaline rush. He shook it off and continued his jog to his team’s private quarters.

Yep, private quarters. James Barnes had not only managed to maintain a leadership position of a specialized team, but he took care of his team. He’d been taking care of Steve his entire life, so taking care of them came naturally. For this reason, he relaxed immediately as he entered the quarters.

They all stood as he entered.

“At ease,” he said tiredly, as he sat down on his cot.

His men gathered around, throwing professionalism to the wind as they dogpiled on the sergeant’s cot.

Bucky leaned back, laying across various body parts.

“Do you think they are okay?” a deep voice rumbled.

Bucky pulled down his collar in answer, refusing to bear the taboo in his mind.

“Got this too,” he said, showing the shield on his finger.

He could imagine the questions floating through their heads, and decided to give up on secrecy.

He drummed his fingers on the delicate script of his collar bone.

“This one’s platonic. Ya know how I was displaying the art of evasion before I went out? Well, that’s Stevie’s area. Scrawny, sickly little fucker, but stubborn. No one could take down the two of us…” he trailed off, debating his next move, “I’m never going to see him again, and if you fellas wanted to throw me under a bus you wouldn’t need more than you already have so… hell might even be healthy to tell ya…”

He was stalling and his men knew it.

“Cut to the chase Sarge,” one man said gruffly, and then, softer, “You can trust us.”

“It uhhh... the bond is a bit strange. It’s got a bit of a blot. Sometimes it’s platonic, sometimes… not.”

There was a heavy silence.

“My grandparents used to tell me folk tales about people whose soulmarks were fluid. They couldn’t be described by one of them nifty taglines. Pissed off my conservative parents, but I always agreed with the tales.”

Bucky nodded, then shook his head.

“No, Steve’s Ma told us those though. My bond fits a tag just the tag it fits changes. Sometimes it’s romantic,” he paused, “Jesus Christ me being a fag is the least incriminating part of this, but I still can’t get it out.”

“So you have a fella waitin for you back home and you didn’t tell us?”

Bucky laughed coolly.

“He ain’t waitin for me. Hopefully, he has moved on and is workin on settling down. More likely, he is tryin ta follow me here. Either way, it ain’t like you think. We’ve never talked about it. I don’t know if his bond is the same, and, either way, I won’t make him live that kinda life.”

His men were silent for a moment. And then one of them cuffed him on the back of his head.

“What kind of life? A happy life?” Another one nearly yelled.

Bucky was pushed off his bed and onto the ground.

“Next time you see him,” one growled, “the very next time, you are telling him. And when he tells you he loves you, you kiss the everloving daylights out of him or I swear to God I’ll bury you in the ground you stand on,” the speaker sat down, before more calmly saying, “and I’ll bet two rounds of topshelf that it goes exactly like that,” he finished.

“Nah, Sarge is too chicken-shit. He’ll get it out, but the next time he sees him he gonna run away. I’ll bet the same two rounds.”

It went on like this for a bit, each man placing a bet for how it would go. None of them bet against Bucky seeing Steve again, though. Bucky, who had been pulled up from the floor and back into a dogpile on his bed, took comfort in this. He still didn’t think he could make it out of the war, but he knew if anyone could see him out it would be his men.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you payed attention to the fairy tales, and to Bucky's rant. They barely make sense to me, so I hope they are translating okay. They are quite important.  
> There were no references in this chapter. I thinks it's probably because I'm focused more on working in stuff that'll be relevant later.  
> With love,  
> K ( http://imsupposedtobewriting.tumblr.com/ )


	5. Apathy and a Serious and Un-ironic Thirst for Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets some soldiers, flirts half-heartedly, jumps out of a plane, and then finally gets his soldier back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, I opened this in google docs (my word expired lol) and found ALL THE ERRORS. I just finished editing, and, honestly, I don't know how anyone was able to read it. If I had opened this and seen all the errors, I would have clicked away soooo fast. I guess I'm lucky people are more tolerant than me. I reread these multiple times before I post them-- I have no clue how I missed so much.  
> Anyway, warnings for this chapter are *awkward silence while I re-read the chapter*  
> Eh, I didn't really find anything. Steve is a bit vacant at the beginning, but it isn't discussed in major detail, so you should be safe. It's all kinda vague.  
> This is a great chapter to play spot the foreshadowing, btw.  
> There's some stuff I don't think you'll really catch, but there is some obvi stuff, too.  
> See you in the end notes!

 

The time between the procedure and Steve’s first “Captain America” show was a whirlwind, and to be honest Steve didn’t remember most of it. He had gone numb after Erskine’s death, and it only got worse after the army turned him down. 

Peggy wanted to convince him to stay with her. They would let him, she said. He couldn’t help, but he could stay. He declined, of course, because he had been offered a way to help the war effort. She was unsurprised. This was the idiot whose soulmark on her was a  **literal grenade** . If all he had to sacrifice to help was his pride, then obviously he would. 

So here he was, making a fool of himself to sell war bonds. 

The girls were nice though. And the fella who played Hitler, well, he was a flirt and if Steve didn’t have people waiting for him…

But, regardless, Steve was doing fine.

Steve didn’t pull out of his apathy until there were plans for a movie. A  _ movie.  _ It shocked him so much he woke up a little. Even though he was still horrified because even in his new body they wouldn’t let him fight, it made him think that maybe being a figurehead was important. He realized that even if he stopped what he was doing right then, an entire generation of kids would grow up believing in themselves and in their country because of Captain America.

So maybe it wasn’t Nazis, but it was still bullies. It kept him content.

Until he found himself in front of a group of soldiers.

He found his words failing him as he stepped up to the podium after the girls did their bit. He almost went ahead with his normal spiel, but he thought of his two soldiers. Peggy and Bucky wouldn’t want to hear the propaganda. So even though his charisma was nowhere to be found, he drew on theirs.

“Hey fellas,” he began, “I don’t think you want to hear what I’d normally say here, since I’m not convincing you to buy bonds.”

He paused and looked off stage to where the girls had exited.

“I’d try to get the girls back out for ya, but they seem to have left me hanging. Let’s just wait a second to see if someone comes out to stop me before I just start talkin,” he let his accent permeate his speech, being the Steve Bucky or Peggy would want to see.

“Guess not,” he laughed lightly, “well, since we’re all here why don’t I tell a story.”

He lifted the podium up onto his shoulder and moved it to the back of the stage. He earned a few chuckles at the casual show of strength. Steve rolled his eyes at the crowd as he sat down with his feet dangling off the high stage.

“Figures I can do shit like that yet I’m selling bonds. That’s actually what I was gonna tell you about. Who has read the kids stories about me?”

The crowd was still weary of him, but a few answered in the affirmative. Steve removed the cowl from his head as he began talking again.

“I don’t know if you read about the ‘super serum’,” he paused, doing air quotes around the words, “but that wasn’t just fluff for those stories. I used to be a skinny, sickly little kid who took on people three times his size. I could fight pretty well, to be honest, but the army doesn’t have a place for the little guy,” Steve sighed and ruffled his hair, “that’s a debate for another day, though. Anyway, I, to quote someone close to me, have a ‘serious and un-ironic thirst for justice’,” he giggled, thinking about Bucky, “Now, I’m inclined to think that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but when that very same person shipped out, there was nothing holding me back from doing everything in my power to get to the war. They tried to get me to stay of course, but they always called me a punk. Really he should have known I’d do something-“ he was cut off mid-sentence and mid-gesturing to himself as a voice from the back called out.

“Hey, What’d he say his name was?”

“Is that  _ Steve? _ What the fuc-“

Several men began pushing their way towards the stage.

“Are we really thinking this is Sarge’s Steve?” Another asked, but he too began walking forward.

Soon there were four men gathered around Steve. He jumped off the stage and took a defensive pose, feeling threatened. 

One of the men looked at him menacingly, before saying gruffly, “Does the name Barnes mean anything to you, James Barnes?”

Steve dropped all of his act in a moment of pure shock, spontaneously adopting the mannerisms of a much smaller person.

“Buck?” he asked softly, “You know him? Is he here?”

He was quiet and reserved, unhopeful. The man shook his head.

“He was captured. Is…” he trailed off, brushing his hand against his collarbone.

“It’s fine. It went a little wobbly after the serum, but…”

“They won’t tell us anything. We don’t know if there’s a rescue mission planned.”

Steve visibly straightened. 

“Son, if there’s one thing I have its clearance,” he said, before sprinting off.

Bucky’s men exchanged sad, yet fond glances, as the rest of the crowd shuffled confusedly, watching the Captain’s retreating form.

* * *

 

It was swell of Stark to fly him, but the flirting was going to kill him before the Nazis did.

It was nice to see Peggy though, regardless of the sleaze hitting on her.

She was a comforting presence in his current state of stress and worry, but she gave him space. She only brought him into the conversation when Stark’s flirting became too obvious to ignore.

“That would be wonderful, Stark, but you should know I come with baggage,” she looked to Steve with a glint in her eye.

Steve was silent for a moment, before he jerked back to reality.

“Oh, yes, that’s me, right. I don’t mind courting, myself, though. And if Peg is good for this ‘fondue’ I’ll join,” he threw in a wink for good measure.

“Steve, it’s just bread and cheese,” Peggy said, laughing.

“Oh, well that’s fine too. If that’s your thing.”

Stark gapped like a fish, and tuned hastily back to the controls. 

Just as he did, though, the plane was hit. Steve sprinted over to the door.

“Steve, no!” Peggy yelled, “We are taking you all the way in!”

Steve disregarded her, saying, “As soon as I’m free, turn this thing around and get the hell outta here!”

“You can’t give me orders!” Peggy yelled.

Steve made meaningful eye-contact with Stark, hoping to portray the idea that he was to get Peggy out of harm’s way. He was obviously successful, because Stark nodded.

He looked back at Peggy.

“The hell I can’t! I’m a captain!” 

He smiled her, and jumped.

* * *

 

_ Steve Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. 107. _

_ Steve Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky. 107. _

The mantra was the background to Bucky’s medically induced dreams. 

He dreamt of battlefronts and explosions and falling and planes.

He dreamt of syringes and electricity and pain.  

Until Steve snuck his way in to his nightmares. He was talking to one of his men, Gabe, except that couldn’t be right. Steve was shorter than that, and he was back in the states, and he was safe. Here was not safe.

He took solace in the fact that it was just a dream. Until it wasn’t. Until Steve was here, and wasn’t safe, and was much taller.

Bucky struggled to consciousness, as Steve simply said, “Come on,” helping him out of the metal chair.

Steve supported him as he walked, and see, that, that right there, was wrong. 

Steve was too short for that, which is why when Steve worriedly said, “I thought you were dead,” his intelligent reply was, “I thought you were smaller.”

Bucky paused for a moment, regaining a little coherence. 

“What happened to you?” He questioned.

Steve’s quick reply was, “I joined the army.”

Bucky may have been reading into it too much, but he was pretty sure Steve meant something deeper by that. A change like that has to be painful. Something clicked in his head when he said that, and he thought back to when his soulmark had exploded for that short period of time. He remembered the pain that came with it.

“Did it hurt?” Bucky asked.

“A little,” Steve brushed off.

He was tougher, Bucky noted as they moved forward.

After a moment, Bucky thought of something else.

“Is it permanent?”

“So far!”

Bucky, though unsatisfied with the short answers, decided to give it a rest for now.

The questions kept piling up, though, as Schmidt appeared, and addressed Steve as Captain America. He also mentioned something about movies, and a doctor’s success. 

Bucky became even more surprised when Steve punched Schmidt in the face, and injured him. He was accustomed to Steve’s sharp jabs, but this was a punch ample power, but no form.

_ No one taught him how to use that power properly,  _ Bucky thought idly.

Bucky’s hazy, though clearing, brain was only mildly surprised when Schmidt had a red, waxy, under-face.

In fact, he was more surprised about Steve’s comeback.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you catch any of the foreshadowing?  
> It's pretty funny to me, knowing what's gonna happen.  
> I know Steve giggles a lot, but I'm a sucker for giggling Steve, especially giggling without humor. It's mah fav.  
> xoxoxo,  
> ~K (http://imsupposedtobewriting.tumblr.com/)


	6. Knowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The commandos are wonderful, Peggy knows, and Steve and Bucky get their shit together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings??? Lil self hate??? Pretty much just run of the mill rambling thoughts and "romance."

Steve and Bucky were being mother hens, though Steve was a bit more subtle than Bucky. He was assisting in wrapping wounds, giving orders to ensure safety if an ambush were to occur, and offering comforting slaps on the back and empathetic faces to those who were more emotionally scarred. He was acting as a leader, as their captain. He was on autopilot, doing what needed to be done until he could escape and see Bucky.  
Bucky, on the other hand, was less reserved. His own men were his priority, so he worked his way through them first. 5 of his 9 men had been captured. 5 of 9. The majority. Bucky tried his best not to be outraged by his luck. He reminded himself that 9 was the number of men officially in his unit, but it was only half of the people he considered his men, only half of the people who were loyal to him. This worked for a bit, but then he realized that was still just a bit less than ¼ of his men captured. Still horrible. He distracted himself by helping them in anyway he could. This mostly amounted to listening, and being a steady presence by them as they walked.  
It took him a long while. They were spread out amongst the escaped POWs, now 5 in 400 instead of 5 in 9. It would take him 15 minutes to find one of them, and then he would makes a point to walk with them for at least half an hour. For some, he talked, others he listened, and for a few he simply walked silently. He stayed with Gabe Jones for nearly triple the time as he had others. He had been forced to make weapons during his capture. His only two emotions seemed to be devouring anger, and quiet self hatred. Bucky only left him when he spotted Dum Dum Dugan, and Gabe, knowing Dum Dum was the only one the sergeant hadn't checked in with yet, sent him off. The only one he hadn't checked in with besides Steve, of course. But Gabe knew Dum Dum would handle that. Two birds, one stone, he figured.  
“I’ll be okay, Sarge. Go worry over Dugan.”  
Bucky looked unconvinced, but gave a nod, and began making his way towards Dum Dum. The man looked at Bucky disapprovingly as he approached. As Bucky fell into step beside him, he opened his mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off.  
“Nope. We are not talking about our feelings,” Dugan stated, leaving little room for argument.  
But Bucky was okay with small spaces, so he tried to argue anyway. Dugan would not allow it.  
“This is me, calling you on your shit, sarge. You're being hypocritical, checking up on us when you haven't even talked to your Steve. Helluva kid, by the way, but celebrations can wait. Get your butt over there, I’ve got money on this.”  
Bucky almost argued again. His mind was forming the words. His lips were preparing to claim that his clipped conversation with Steve completely counted. But then, he looked in the direction Dugan was gesturing, and he saw Steve. Everything in him suddenly split, and felt two completely different emotions. In the forefront of his mind, everything snapped to attention. A million questions ran through his head. But, in the rest of his mind, every part of his being let out a great sigh of relief. Steve was alive. And he was here, and even though he knew that meant he wasn’t safe part of him was sure he was the safest he’d ever been. Bucky was concerned about whatever had changed him, and logic told him that whatever had done it was wrong, but something in him had been let loose, and decided it was most definitely right.    
He wrung his hands nervously. He noticed the subconscious movement, and looked down at his hands to stop it. But then it clicked. He separated his hands, letting them hang in the air, examining them. He rubbed his thumb over the shield on his finger.  
“Captain America, that guy called him… Was he using a shield?” Bucky murmured, before looking up at Dum Dum.  
Dugan’s only reply was to give him a knowing look, and pointedly glance at Steve. Bucky followed his gaze. Steve’s back was to them, and now, for the first time, Buck saw the shield strapped to his back.   
Bucky began moving towards Steve, reigning in his speed as much as he could. He didn’t want to cause a scene, but he couldn’t stand to be away a second more.   
He slid a protective hand around his waist, surprisingly finding it natural to adjust to his new stature.   
“So, Captain America, huh?” he said, with a grin.  
Steve whipped around to look at him. He looked relieved, and Bucky suddenly realized Steve had purposely been giving him space. He felt guilty, but knew he had to stay in the moment. He couldn't give himself an excuse to chicken out.  
“That’s what they call me. I don't mind it, cause I love the theme it gives the uniform,” he said, mind obviously not on the conversation at hand.  
Steve’s eyes drifted over his shoulder as he began to speak again.  
“The shield is the best. I was surprised it held up so well.”  
Bucky saw his opening.  
“Yeah, I'm quite fond of it myself,” Bucky said.  
Steve glanced at him to reply, but stopped when he realized that Bucky was not looking at his shield. Instead he was looking at his hand, tapping a spot on one of his fingers with interest. When he saw Steve’s gaze, he casually moved the tapping finger, to reveal what lay underneath.  
Steve started, but made no noise of recognition. He was trying to hold back. Trying not to cause a scene. Trying to resist the urge to grab that hand and never let go. Trying, trying, trying. Thankfully, Dugan, who had been slowly making his way towards them, chose now to step in. 

“Sun is setting, Sarge,” he said, gruffly.  
_Yes_ , Bucky thought, _it is, isn’t it?_  
He distractedly noticed the way the orange light hit Steve’s shield, dulled, and bounced off it looking  softer. When Dugan noticed he in no way had Bucky’s attention, he clapped him on the back.  
“Barnes. You've been locked in with those crazy bastards by yourself, while they did who knows what to you. The captain, and more importantly your Steve, has jumped out of a plane, hiked across a country, and fought off an entire base. And that's just what I've heard. You, at the least, need to get off your feet. I'd honestly prefer you get some sleep.”  
That brought the mood down. Steve seemed to suddenly remember where he had found Bucky, and something in his eyes became very sad. It didn't stop either of them from protesting, though. It wasn't in their nature.  
Dugan cut them short, though.  
“Okay, listen. Steve, I don't know you, yet,” he added pointedly, “but I know Barnes. And I know he won't go unless you do. That sound right?” He questioned of Steve.  
Steve nodded, looking past Dugan to Bucky.  
“Good, so we are on the same page. What about you? If he doesn't go, would you go?”  
Steve paused a moment, looked guilty, and shook his head to the negative.  
“My point exactly. So if you won't do it for yourself, do it for each other.”  
Steve nodded.  
“Yeah, okay. But we're just getting in one of the cars. We can't hold everyone up.”  
“Sure, Cap. But I'm setting you up in the back of one of these trucks, so you can get some shut eye if you want to.”  
“Sure, course. I've got some stuff to handle first, but it'll only be a second. I'll be there, promise. Meet me there, Buck, and stay with Dugan, okay?” He said, the last part sounding like a plea.  
Bucky sighed.  
“Sure, Stevie.”  
Steve nodded, and walked away quickly, purpose reflected in his steps.   
Dugan and Bucky slowly began making their way towards one of the large vehicles with covered backs that was rolling slowly and carefully alongside the tired men. Bucky mildly wondered who was driving the truck. He hoped it was one of his, or at least someone with discretion. Maybe he was being pessimistic, but he saw a screaming match in his future.   
Bucky was pulled out of his thoughts when Dugan spoke.  
“He’s worried about you. ‘M not sure why, he knows you can handle yourself. Maybe it's more for his sake than yours. I mean, what he's done here is heroic and all, but I think we know his motivation. Only a few things in the world a man’ll do something like this for. Sure, justice is one of ‘em, but there are other things at play here.”  
Bucky was silent for a moment.  
“All that about not knowin’ him was bull. You’re his men.”  
It was true, Bucky thought. Their loyalties had shifted the second they began fighting together. His men were Steve’s, now.   
Dugan shook his head.  
“It isn't like that, sarge. Think about it like this: you somehow managed, as a Sergeant, to be allowed to head a special unit, without any real supervising superior. Part of it’s talent-- talent they hoped you could teach others. More of it is that you are a natural protector, meaning not only will you fight to get your men, but the higher ups trust you with them. But, part of it, is that you act like you've already got a superior officer. Something in your nature is like you are already following someone. It's why, I think, people don't look too closely at you heading a unit. You’ve always been following Steve, even though it seemed like you were leaving him behind. So, really, hasn't he always been our captain?”  
They were walking right behind the truck, now, waiting for Steve. A small smile graced Bucky’s lips.  
“I suppose,” he said, but the smile fell from his lips when he saw Steve jogging towards them, “but I was following a sickly kid from brooklyn.”  
“So were we. We still are. It's them same guy. You can't separate them. He's still your Steve, maybe even more so.”  
He finished right a Steve jogged up, a tired smile stretched across his lips. Dugan made eye contact with Bucky, pointedly, as if he was trying to force his understanding of the significance of his next action-- which was to salute Steve, in a way somewhere between casual and formal, and begin walking towards a cluster of Bucky’s men.   
Bucky heaved a great aggravated sigh, before jumping on the back of the truck and turning to help Steve up. They shrunk inside the darkness that was the back of the truck. Bucky immediately sat down, leaning against the side. The wall was rigged, and metal, but better than anywhere else. Better than where he had been before, at least. Steve slouched down on the wall across from him.  
Bucky opened his mouth to ask a question. Then he shut it, a more important question occurring to him. He began to voice the new question, but again thought of something more important. This repeated for a moment, before he gave up, huffing. He pulled his knees to his chest, balanced his arms on them, and laid his head in the hole they created. Another moment passed.  
“My soul mark exploded. It's better, now, but god Stevie, it hurt like hell,” he croaked, quietly, looking at the floor.  
“I'm so sorry,” Steve whispered in reply.  
Bucky huffed.  
“I ain't looking for your pity. I'm worried about you. I collapsed, Steve. My men had to get me to medical. No one knew what was happening. If I got that just from being connected to you, how bad was it for you?”  
A shudder ran through Steve’s frame. His eyes glazed over in memory.  
“I wouldn't have been able to do it if I hadn't been able to see my marks. I was worried I was going to lose both of them, momentous change and all. But I didn't. I even got another one. It was amazing,” he said, in another place in his mind, forgetting this wasn't something Bucky knew.  
“Marks? What?” Bucky asked, looking up now.   
“Well, there's this one,” he said, deciding to start simple.  
He gestured to the dark discoloration cover a section of his upper bicep in what looked to be 3 thin stripes.  Bucky gave a laugh. He knew there was more, more that would be harder to work out, but, this, this was good.  
“You won't believe this. I have the same thing. I guess we both willed it into existence, in our own convenient tortures.”  
Bucky pulled up the end of his sleeve, revealing the stripes that had appeared on his right side during one of the many hours of experimentation he had been put through. But he didn't want to think on that, now. He had to worry about Steve first.  
Steve stared at the mark in wonder.  
He almost wondered aloud if their was someone they would both love. He almost mentioned that the connection, though not yet established, felt multifaceted to him- strange. But he didn't. He had more important things to tell Bucky.   
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. But that's not all,” he said, then pulled at his shirt to reveal the gray scale compass, “Peggy Carter ‘s her name. My mark on her is a grenade. It's a long story but I'll let her tell it, since I don't feel like gettin’ slapped right now,” he said, punctuating it with a laugh.  
Bucky said nothing, but eyed him wearily, silently asking a question.  
Steve sobered.   
“She.. Uh. The mark is romantic, but she knows about us. She knows… She knows about us,” he stuttered out.   
“Does she now? She knows about us?” Bucky said, cold, almost angry, expecting the worst, “Cause to be honest with ‘ca I'm not sure that I do,” he finished.  
Bucky looked down at the floor, returning his head to its best among his arms. Steve scurried over next to him, making a loud noise as he hit the ground in his haste. He leaned into Bucky’s side, barely just resisting the urge to reach out and smooth his short hair. He settled for tucking a stray price behind his ear, just to get his attention.  
Bucky looked up at him with guarded eyes. No emotions were lingering there, but this didn't slow Steve down. It only gave him confidence.   
“She knows our marks are finicky, just like hers and mine are. She thinks we are idiots, not talking about it. She knows I want you two to meet. She says she feels like she already knows you, not because I talk too much but because of the look in my eye when I do. Her words, not mine. And she knows I love you, Buck. She knows I've loved you since we met, and I'm sorry she knew it before you did,” he said, before taking a breath.  
“And she thinks that's just fine. Amazing, even. So I’m going to kiss you now, if you have no objections,” he finished quickly, his words a lifetime in the making.   


* * *

  
Later, it was night. They lay tangled together, so much the same as they always had in the past and yet so different. They had been talking for a while, about the war, about Peggy, about Bucky’s men.   
Bucky tapped the shield on his finger.  
“It feels weird. It's romantic, for sure, but there’s this sense of… Impermanence…” He said, trailing off.

Steve was quiet for a moment. 

“My soulmark for Peggy is like that… It appeared faded. Erskine, the doctor who made the serum that is, thought it was because I was approaching a great change. He thought the serum would make all my soul marks disappear-” he said, but Bucky cut him off. 

Bucky propped his head on his hand, elbow against the truck bed on which they were laying. He turned to Steve. 

“And you did it anyway? What the hell, Stevie?” he questioned, voice soft with disbelief.

It felt self-centered, but he honestly he couldn’t imagine Steve would give them, him, up. But, then again, he could. This was Steve. Sure, Bucky knew he could fight, but the army wouldn’t give him the time of day.     
“It isn't like that… Well, yeah I guess it is but… It felt right. It still does. God, that sounds horrible, doesn't it?”

Bucky didn't say anything for a moment.

“You wouldn't be my Steve if you hadn't done it. I know what you mean, about it feeling right. I can't explain it.”

“Then let’s not explain it. Let's just be happy about it,” Steve whispered in reply.

“Are you sure it's something to be happy about? There’s a foreboding in the air.”

Silence fell for a minute. It held longer than would have been appropriate in the day light, but night encourages contemplation. 

“Foreboding means more. More bad shit, maybe, but more life, too.”

Bucky nodded in response. Steve couldn’t see it, but he could feel it.

_ More life _ , Steve thought,  _ that sounds nice _ . 

They drifted off to sleep.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally wrote this last year. Like over a year ago. My OTP is myself and WIP's.  
> Anyway, who won the bet? Which commando has to buy the next round?  
> (We will never get to see that round get bought, sadly. But it could be referenced in the future. Future. Heh.)  
> Follow me on Tumblr. I have the URL of the same name (K9-DFTBA) now.  
> ~K


End file.
